


It Was Empty

by OddestWriter



Category: Irish Mythology, Táin Bó Cúailnge, Ulster Cycle
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I pulled this entirely out of my ass, Post Cu Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OddestWriter/pseuds/OddestWriter
Summary: It was unbelievable, but he was gone. But when someone becomes "gone", you do not want to face it. You do not want to realize that a spot that should be occupied is...empty.
Relationships: Cú Chulainn/Emer
Kudos: 2





	It Was Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Some Ulster Cycle fic. Just for funsies. Main characters being Emer, cause I find her super fun, and Uathach, because I just think she's neat. I hope you enjoy! Constructive Criticism is welcomed and encouraged!

It was roomier that morning. Roomier than most mornings. For all he was, her husband was not an earlier riser.

Emer enjoyed clinging to him in the earlier hours, the warmth of the blankets, the feel of his body against hers. It was nice, a relaxing way to start the morning.

But there would be none of that today.

It was colder that morning, for Emer had nothing to cling to. Emer rolled the sheets tighter around herself, trying to compensate for that absence of warmth.

But it was still cold

Emer tried to ignore that, this wasn’t Ulster anyway. She was farther north, the bed far bigger.

Emer didn’t want to think about why she was up north, that would only remind her of why she was here. The door creaked open, and someone entered the room, sitting on the side of her bed.

“It is today.” The voice said, gentle, “His burial will begin in a couple hours.”

Emer still refused to open her eyes, for she still didn’t want to fully acknowledge why she was here.

“Are you Scathach or Uathach?”

“Uathach,” the voice said, “Mother is preparing the burial herself...she also likes to mourn alone.”

Emer didn’t speak again, instead wrapping her arms around herself in a hug.

Uathach reached out her hand, stroking Emer’s hair.

“I cannot know how you must be feeling.” Uathach said, to herself as much as Emer, “Despite growing close to him while he trained here, I did not grow as close as him as Ferdiad did, or even you, back in his homelands.”

“I cannot truly understand your pain.” Uathach continued, “Because but I can extend whatever sympathies I can, Emer. If you ever need to cry, feel free to come to my shoulder.”

Emer nodded softly, as Uathach stood and left.

She was thankful for her words, and Emer soon roused herself, dressing for the day's events. As she approached the exit of her room, Emer did not know if it was temporary or if she’d stay here after the burial, she almost turned back.

Emer, despite everything, wanted to hold one last hope that he was still alive. Despite having seen his head, gripped it in her hands, cried over it; Emer still wanted to hope he was still here.

But that would be disrespectful to Cu Chulainn himself.

Cu Chulainn, whose life was driven by his desire to be a Hero, to be remembered. Who took up arms despite knowing it would lead to his doom. Who tore through life, like a burning fire, like a shooting star, a bright light that illuminated all those he encountered. It would be an insult to everything he strove for to maintain that false hope.

Emer exhaled, before turning around to face the bed.

It was empty.


End file.
